Work Text
Brutus Feels is a very tactile man who tends not to show it very much, because he knows that he unnerves people. The looming is bad enough; almost everyone he’s ever met tends to get uncomfortable when he pairs the looming with his large hands settling absently on their arms or shoulders, patting their backs. He knows it reads as intimidation, but he doesn’t mean it that way; he just likes to be close to people.
Lucifer Kane does
not
like to be close to people. Touching him is a little bit like touching a porcupine, or maybe a hedgehog, in that if you do it wrong you get a palm full of spines and Luce skitters away to hide in a corner and stare at you with eyes full of betrayal, but if you do it right it’s all smooth and cool and wonderful beneath the hand. Moreover, Luce doesn’t flinch when Brutus comes toward him, when Brutus reaches out, places a hand on his back or grabs his wrist to direct him. That Luce allows Brutus to touch him freely, and that Brutus has so carefully learned the ways in which Luce does and does not like to be touched, is no small part of why they started sleeping together.
Not that the sex isn’t good, or that they aren’t compatible in ways other than their particular tactile affinities. Case in point: the firm hand wrapping around Brutus’s cock, which tears him quite determinedly from his musings and back into the present, where Luce is looking up at him with the look of a person well-aware that his lover stopped paying attention in the middle of a handjob.
“Sorry,” Brutus says.
“It’s a good thing I like you,” Lucifer replies. “Lean back.”
Brutus does, letting his back rest against the pillows piled up against the headboard. On some days Lucifer is rather in the mood to be held down and fucked with every ounce of thoroughness that Brutus can muster, and other days very much not; today is one of the latter. Brutus isn’t entirely sure yet what he’s planning, but he’s willing to go along with it.
If Brutus were in Luce’s position, with Luce spread out against the pillows in front of him, both of them naked and well wound up, he wouldn’t be able to resist running his hands all across him, stroking his chest and his ribs, passing his thumbs over his nipples and tracing the wiry lines of muscle in his arms. Luce, however, is not Brutus, so he does not do that. Instead, he leans in almost crane-like, their bodies touching at a few points, and kisses him. Slow and deep, the movement almost but not quite matching the rhythm of his hand as he stroke’s Brutus’s cock, enough to keep Brutus guessing. It makes Brutus gasp, and he presses forward, wanting more,
more
, but Luce doesn’t give it to him. The hand not on his cock comes to rest on Brutus’s shoulder, his fingertips pressing in and his hand almost held away. Lucifer Kane should be awkward in bed; maybe he would be to other people, but it makes Brutus feel desperate.
“Luce,” he says, when Lucifer finally pulls away to give them both a moment to breathe. “What are you up to?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Luce says. Brutus snorts.
“I always worry about what you’re plotting, Kane. Especially when you’ve got your hands in sensitive places,” he says, and jerks his hips up slightly to demonstrate the point.
“Alright, alright,” Lucifer says, and lets go of Brutus’s cock, which is not what he had wanted at
all
and makes a noise of displeasure to show it. Luce shivers a little at the sound, which makes Brutus smile. Lucifer might be up to something, but he’s still go no poker face in bed.
“Don’t be like that,” Luce says, and slides off the bed, which is
worse
.
“Come back,” Brutus says, sitting up, but Lucifer just waves him back down as he goes to dig through the bedside table to find lube and a condom.
“I only forgot to set up properly earlier,” Luce says. He returns to the bed and kisses Brutus quickly, then sets about fiddling with the bottle of lube.
“Because you’re an impatient bastard,” Brutus says. “Here, let me.”
“No, you get to watch. Sit back.”
“Oh, it’s like
that
, is it?”
Luce just hums, finally manages to get the cap off the lube, and pours a generous amount onto his own fingers. Then he slings a leg over Brutus’s legs to sit in his lap, looking quite pleased with himself when he gets there.
“Worried you wouldn’t make it there, mate?” Brutus asks, amused.
“I’m not
that
old,” Lucifer replies, and kneels up so that he can reach behind himself. From the wince, the lube is still uncomfortably cold—impatient, Brutus had said so, hadn’t he?
“No, you’re not,” Brutus says. He reaches up, watches Lucifer’s face, and when he sees no sign to stop he doesn’t, lays his hands on Lucifer’s sides has he had been imagining earlier. He strokes and gentles as Lucifer prepares himself, and though he can’t see what Luce is doing, he can see what it’s doing
to
him. He can hear the faint slick noise as Lucifer’s fingers sink into his own body, the angle perhaps a little awkward, but when Brutus’s hands settle Lucifer leans forward, letting Brutus brace him; the hand not inside himself comes to rest on Brutus’s chest, his fingers spread and a little cool as they always are. He sighs quietly, closes his eyes to concentrate on what he’s doing, and Brutus is left able to watch his face, the faint flush that rises and the twitches of his lips. By now Brutus is intimately familiar with what pleasure looks like on Lucifer’s face, and he’s more than a little in love with it.
Finally, Luce shudders and withdraws his fingers from his body, and turns to give Brutus a slow smile that makes Brutus feel not a little like his skin is about to catch fire. “Ready?” Lucifer asks.
“Oh, more than,” Brutus says. His voice is rough, rougher than he expected it to be; Luce’s eyes go molten and he shuffles forward, snatching up the condom he’d dropped on the bed earlier and tearing it open. He rolls it on over Brutus’s cock with steady hands and the same intent attention that he gives to magic, which Brutus certainly has a feeling about, though at the moment he’s not sure he has enough functioning braincells to put a name to it. His whole mind is full of Lucifer Kane, which is about the way he wants it.
And then Luce is kneeling up further, over Brutus’s cock, and lowering himself so, so slowly. Brutus is wrapped in heat a centimeter at a time, bit by bit, and he wraps his hands around Lucifer’s hips to hold him steady while it happens. Luce’s own hands have now settled too, one behind him on Brutus’s thigh and the other on Brutus’s ribs, and Brutus can feel every place where their bodies touch as if they’re electric. He’s so caught up just in the
contact
that he hardly notices when Luce bottoms out, but he feels the twitch because it happens
around
him, that jerk and shudder that means Lucifer is overwhelmed and happy about it. Brutus refocuses his gaze on Lucifer’s face and admires the glazed look his lover has, his cheeks fully flushed and his eyes half-lidded. He’s truly stunning like this, full up of pleasure and shameless.
“You can touch,” Lucifer says, and then he moves.
“Fuck,” Brutus replies; that’s all he can muster, with Luce rolling his hips like that, fucking himself on Brutus’s cock. It feels incredible, hot and smooth even with the condom, the tightness near-heavenly; Lucifer is clearly feeling it too, noises by turns soft and harsh catching in his throat. He’s not holding Brutus down by any means—he can’t, not without ropes or cuffs—but Brutus is in his power nonetheless, laid back into the pillows and spellbound by his partner.
Then he remembers the implicit command and lets his hands roam free, stroking Lucifer’s hips first, tracing his thumbs over his hipbones and down the line of his iliac crest. He pauses a moment to stroke Lucifer’s cock a few times, until Luce moans above him, and then moves on, leaving his lover gasping out curses. He drags his fingers down Luce’s thighs, careful not to press down hard enough to ruin the rhythm he has going, and then trails them back up and around to caress Lucifer’s ass, holding on there and supporting Lucifer, encouraging him to fuck himself harder; when he lets go, Lucifer maintains that same force, and Brutus’s mind is quickly spiralling down into blank heat, but there are parts of Lucifer he has yet to lay hands on today and he’s very determined to do it before he comes.
Lucifer’s back is the source of constant fascination for Brutus and he takes as long with it as he can, running his hands up and down, tracing muscle and bone beneath the skin, touches the slight softness at Lucifer’s waist, lingers on each of the bumps of his spine. This beautiful spine, which holds up Lucifer Kane. Brutus wants to kiss it, can’t, and so kisses Lucifer’s chest instead, over his heart. He runs his hands across the skin of Lucifer’s back until he knows it must be buzzing from the sensitization; Luce arches, changing the angle at which Brutus’s cock is sliding into him, and both of them moan in response. It’s good, it’s
so
good, and Brutus allows himself to clutch at Lucifer’s shoulders, his arms, finally his hands. He tangles their fingers together and Lucifer is forced to stop moving for a moment, breathing hard. He leans in until they’re pressed close together, Luce’s cock trapped between his stomach and Brutus’s, and he gasps against Brutus’s throat.
“Good?” Brutus asks, more than a little breathless himself.
“Oh, very,” Luce says, and sits back, looses his hands from Brutus’s once more, and settles into a slower, more intense movement, taking Brutus impossibly deep on every stroke.
“You’re going to kill me,” Brutus groans.
“Doubtful,” Lucifer says. He leans forward to kiss Brutus’s jaw, though, so he must know what he’s doing.
Brutus is nearly out of skin and nearly out of restraint, and so he runs one hand up Lucifer’s chest to his trace his collarbone and then cup his throat. Beneath his hand, his touch so very gentle, Brutus feels Lucifer swallow hard. No fear in his face, though, and Brutus smiles and continues. He touches Lucifer’s jaw and his cheek, runs a thumb over his lips, then leans up from his reclined position to kiss those same lips. He savours it for a moment, and then the movement of Lucifer’s body against his shifts, sparks something, and he moans.
“I-I need—” he starts, and Lucifer understands. He grabs Brutus’s hand, the one not now resting on his jaw, and guides it down to wrap around his cock. Brutus had missed it, occupied by his exploration of every inch of Luce’s skin, but Lucifer must have been right on the edge, because it only takes a few strokes before he’s shaking and shouting and slamming down against Brutus. His body goes so
tight
around Brutus’s cock and between that and the look on Lucifer’s face, he’s done too, grabbing hard at shoulder and hip and coming, buried deep, their bodies so closely connected that at the height of orgasm, it’s difficult to tell one from the other.
Of course, before Brutus is half done feeling lazy and sated Lucifer is pulling away, withdrawing his warmth.
“Oy,” Brutus protests weakly.
“Don’t ‘oy’ me,” Lucifer says. He waves a hand at Brutus cock. “Deal with the condom, will you? We can have a cuddle in a moment but I am
very
sweaty, Brutus, and it is unpleasant.”
“Pleasant to me,” Brutus mutters, but he does as he’s been told. The condom goes into the bin by the door as does a tissue he used to tidy up a bit, and he straightens the sheets and the pillows for good measure, and slips on a pair of boxers, and then lies back down and waits expectantly for the promised cuddle.
Fortunately, Lucifer doesn’t take too long to deliver. He comes back and gives that faint fond smile of his to see Brutus lying in the bed, and Brutus smiles back and lifts the covers. Luce joins him, willingly coming close so that Brutus can wrap him up. The best thing about being so big is that he can have all of Lucifer Kane in his arms all at once, so he takes advantage, and Lucifer sighs and rolls over and leans back against him.
“That was lovely, Feels, thank you,” Luce says, his voice already fading toward sleepy.
“You did all the work,” Brutus points out. Which is true; he reckons the least he can do is briefly release Luce in order to turn out their lamp, so he does.
“Mm,” says Lucifer.
“Yes, you would think so, wouldn’t you,” Brutus says. He settles back down and kisses the back of Lucifer’s head, which draws another faint, sleeping noise, and Brutus smiles at him some more, even though he can’t see it. Then he closes his own eyes and lets the distant noise of the city carry him into dreaming.